


The Tale Of Mop Eyes And The Most Beautiful Man In The World, Who Lives In Her Building And Only Ever Sees Her When She Looks Disgusting

by afteriwake



Series: Sherlolly Spring Fling - April/May 2017 [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Biking, Bus, Confident Molly Hooper, Dropping Her Bag, Eating On Bus, Elevators, Embarrassed Molly, Embarrassed Sherlock Holmes, Embarrassment, F/M, Falling Molly, First Dates, Fluff and Humor, Food, Gluttony, Happy Ending, High Heels, Humor, Injured Molly, Inspired By Tumblr, Kind Molly Hooper, Little Black Dress, Molly Can't Walk In Heels, Molly Feels Pathetic, Molly Has A Crush, Mouth Full Of Food, POV Molly Hooper, Poor Molly, Pre-Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Ruined Shirt, Rushing Molly, Sherlock is beautiful, Sherlock is oblivious, Slip On Wet Floor, Slip and Fall, Smile, Spilled Food, Spilled Items, Stained Shirt, Strangers to Lovers, Stressed Molly, Stumbling, Sweat, Wrist Splint, introductions, journal format, messy hair, potholes, tables have turned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 21:18:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9787352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: If only The Most Beautiful Man In The World could see her on agoodday...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chitarra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chitarra/gifts).



> So this entire fic is inspired by one of my favorite Tumblr posts by **ofgeography** , "[The Most Beautiful Man In The World, Who Lives In My Building And Only Ever Sees Me When I Look Disgusting](http://penaltywaltz.tumblr.com/post/157268495183/the-most-beautiful-man-in-the-world-who-lives-in)." Ut was suggested that the post be an "imagine your OTP" thing and so I had saved it and eventually tossed it into my pile of Sherlolly prompts to be claimed by people, and it was claimed by **Chitarra** (who, coincidentally, said there should be fic of the story...hee). So here it is, with various parts of the post being different chapters.

  
**Day 1**   
_First Meeting With The Most Beautiful Man In The World_   


_Public transit is the worst_ , Molly Hooper thought to herself as the man sitting next to her spread his legs even further apart. She was already squashed between his rather obese body and the side of the bus, but did that stop the man from taking up more space? No. No, it did not. She sighed and tried to concentrate on her book, which was hard because the man’s elbows were out and jabbing into her personal space. _What personal space?_ the salty voice in her head stated. It wasn’t even all that crowded of a bus, and yet because she’d decided to take the bus instead of biking in the rain, the gods had seen to punish her for her hubris of wanting to stay dry.

The bus came to a stop and miraculously, another seat opened up with ample room on the sides because, blessedly, there were women on both sides. No one seemed to be making a dash for it so she quickly grabbed her things and headed towards the front of the bus to take this glorious, wonderful throne on high--

\--only to see The Most Beautiful Man In The World stop in front of it. He seemed vaguely familiar but placing how or why was so hard when he was just so...perfect.

“Oh!” she said, her voice more of a squeak than usual. She wasn’t _really_ a timid mouse of a thing, though her friends joked she was as quiet as one when she got around men (especially of the attractive sort), but that squeak might have led one to think she was from the rodent family. “I’m sorry. I...well, I was coming from the back, and...”

“By all means, take it,” he said. He nodded back towards where she had been sitting. “Some men have more manners than others.”

His voice sounded like the sound angels make when they’re doing folk covers of pop songs on their heavenly harps, she decided. Not that she could ever really think of what that must sound like, but it _had_ to be like what his voice sounded like. Velvety smooth and low baritone and it sent one of those chills straight down her spine to her womanly parts…

Oh, he was moving away. 

She sat down, setting her things between her feet and glancing nonchalantly back at him every so often, seeing he hadn’t sat with Mr. “No Sense Of Personal Space” but was rather sitting with a lovely older woman, chatting with her for a moment and making her smile before settling in. He glanced over her way and she gave him her brightest smile. The most dazzling one she had, full wattage all of it.

For far too long.

It was far too bright.

She was making a fool out of herself.

And he was looking away!

_Bugger._

Didn’t matter, though. Her stop was next, and she knew as she got off it would be a case of ships in the night, never destined to meet. Parting was such sweet sorrow, never in the morn would they meet--

Wait. He was standing up. Bowing towards the old lady. Moving towards the exit.

He lived in her neighborhood!

Maybe the gods liked her after all. She smiled to herself, humming as a jaunty song came n her iPod, until she realized she was following him. And then he turned left where she turned left. Walked up the stairs she walked on every day to get into and out of her quaint little apartment complex.

_Oh please, no no no…_

Joy turned to dread when she realized the horrible, horrible truth of the situation. The Most Beautiful Man In The World didn’t just live in her _neighborhood_ …

The Most Beautiful Man In The World was one of her _neighbors._

Bloody fucking hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Day 6**   
_Second Meeting With The Most Beautiful Man In The World_

_Stupid bloody pumps,_ Molly thought as she wobbled slightly to make her way to the lift to get down to the lobby. She hated wearing them because it meant a day on public transit and her feet would ache and possibly blisters and she could barely walk in them without falling over. And they weren’t even two inches! But when her company had the higher-ups come over, everyone had to “look their best” and the boss said no flats.

Bastard. Didn’t he know what hell heels were?

She heard the ding of the approaching lift and looked down the hall to see The Most Beautiful Man In The World about to step onto the lift. Oh, bloody hell, how did she _not_ know he lived on her floor? Or maybe he didn’t, maybe he had a mate on her floor. But he was about to get on the lift and she was running late and she needed to be on it with him. “Hold the lift!” she called out, stumbling towards the lift and them falling into it when she got there.

Oh, Lord. She’d made a fool of herself once again.

She saw a hand in her line of vision and used it to help herself up. No snickering, thank heavens for that, but she couldn’t look at his face, instead looking down at her feet or at her handbag or anywhere but at the Most Beautiful Man In The World. The sooner they got to the apartment complex lobby the better they would be.

It was the longest three-minute ride of her life, and the minute the doors opened again she made to dash out but stumbled over her feet and face planted into the lobby, stopping herself with her hands. Oh, the pain shooting through her left wrist was enough to make her cry, and the attention her crash had brought to her was _going_ to make her cry any minute now. She looked up and saw The Most Beautiful Man In The World give her a concerned look before checking the clock in the lobby and walking around her.

Oh, he must think she’s pathetic. But she was, wasn’t she? She took off her pumps with her right hand and waited while the doorman fussed over her about getting her to a doctor to get her wrist looked at. Fuck it all, she was never wearing them again. _Never._


	3. Chapter 3

**Day 9**   
_Third Meeting With The Most Beautiful Man In The World_

_This damnable splint makes everything harder,_ Molly thought as she balanced the tray of chips and salsa in her splinted hand and tried to eat one with her good hand. It had been a long day at work and she hadn’t been able to get a decent lunch, just a yoghurt and a bag of crisps at her desk, so this was the prelude to the yummy bag of Mexican takeaway she had balanced on her lap. Not an ideal balancing situation, but she’d managed so far.

She knew she wasn’t supposed to eat on the bus but she was starved. Her damnable boss was a taskmaster, really. He wasn’t the nicest of people on a good day and when there was a project due he was an absolute beast. She’d been through this before but it didn’t get any easier, and with her wrist in the splint because of her spill off the lift it made her productivity slower and oh, he had no qualms about letting her know. At this point, her job was hanging on by a thread and that meant her livelihood and, well, her life as she knew it was, too.

And her way of dealing with it was to seek out comfort food and go home and pet her cat, the one thing in her life that gave her unconditional love.

She was lost in thought and didn’t realize how precariously the salsa was on the chip until the bus hit a pothole and the salsa slid off the chip and onto her pristine white dress shirt, making her look like a child in Year 1 who couldn’t feed themselves properly. She sighed and started to open the bag of takeaway to see if paper napkins had been included to see if she could clean herself up a bit when the bus began to let on passengers and _he_ walked on.

The Most Beautiful Man In The World.

She froze, but all he did was give her a polite nod, which she returned automatically, and kept walking towards the back. But inside she was horrified that he had seen her in a salsa-stained blouse looking like she couldn’t even eat like a proper human being. Why did this always happen to her? What vengeful god had she crossed to orchestrate this?

She didn’t know, but she hoped to catch a break soon before The Most Beautiful Man In The World got the impression she was nothing better than a pound note that had been stained by years of being in people’s sweaty palms of something like that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Day 16**   
_Fourth Meeting With The Most Beautiful Man In The World_

A week. She’d been fortunate to go a full week without embarrassing herself in front of The Most Beautiful Man In The World, who was kind of like the bloke who played Chad in “High School Musical,” just so much more beautiful. Ethereally beautiful, like the way the sun spills over water at dusk. She’d counted her lucky stars because it gave her time to feel human again.

She had told her best mates about The Most Beautiful Man In The World, and how every single time she had run into him it was horrendous. She would always look like a _literal_ dumpster troll that has just _crawled out of its garbage house_ in search of free WI-fi and a slush drink, and then spilled the drink all over itself and just looked pathetic. Because she was pathetic.

When her friends didn’t disagree she started to think she needed new friends.

But first? A bit of a movie marathon with popcorn, a Cadbury Dairy Milk or five and all the soppy sappy movies she turned to when feeling down.

And that was, of course, when she ran into him.

Arms laden down with bags of popcorn, a Cadbury Dairy Milk in her mouth that she had stopped eating just to inform their overly concerned doorman that “Oh, no, I’m not having a party, this is literally all for me.” Biggest bags of popcorn she could carry, and two armfuls of it! And a half melted candy bar covering her lips in chocolate because, lo and behold, it was actually obscenely warm that day.

She fled upstairs before she could get any pity from him...and promptly ordered takeaway. Food would be her only comfort, from now on and forever more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Day 17**   
_Fifth Meeting With The Most Beautiful Man In The World_

There was no God.

Another rushed morning, another day to suffer the embarrassment of making a fool of herself in front of The Most Beautiful Man In The World, the man whose name she _still_ didn’t know, who was basically like the way food smells when you’re hungry. And she always seemed to be hungry when she was around him. He must think her a pig. A messy, dirty hog.

She didn’t even get to go a _full_ day before the embarrassment, oh no. In the foyer of the building her shoulder bag, which was more like a messenger bag, decided this would be the morning the strap broke and spilled the contents of itself, her _whole bloody life_ , all the boring and personal, all over the floor. If that wasn’t bad enough, he stepped off the lift when she was talking to an inanimate object like a loon around a mouthful of a breakfast bar, saying “Why? Why did you do that when I explicitly told you not to? Do you like being on the floor?”

He chuckled at that, and she went bright red in the face. He found her a laughingstock! He laughed at her plight. Oh bloody hell, she was pathetic. What vengeful god has orchestrated it so the _only times_ she ever ran into The Most Beautiful Man In The World were when she could easily be mistaken for a child’s doll that has been put through the wash by accident, or a pound note that has been stained by years of being in people’s sweaty palms, or a mop with eyes?

That’s what she was. A mop with eyes. A dirty, stringy mop who had been cursed by any and all beings above.

Fuck it all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Day 28**   
_Sixth Meeting With The Most Beautiful Man In The World_

Maybe there was a God, but he had a warped, twisted sense of humour. 

She went almost _two whole weeks_ without making an arse of herself, either in front of The Most Beautiful Man In The World or not. Two weeks where she felt like maybe, _maybe_ , life would play fair for a change.

Oh, how piteously wrong she had been.

To celebrate her splint coming off she’d decided it would be a lovely day to go back to biking to work. And the morning was, for once, rather lovely. Cool but not cold. Minimal clouds. She’d even, rather foolishly in hindsight, given her utter lack of being accident-free for more than a week since meeting The Most Beautiful Man In The World, decided to go helmet free on her biking jaunt to work. All seemed well.

Then the sun came out.

And stayed out.

And the temperatures rose so high up in a _God forsaken heat wave_ that the commute home was pure unadulterated _hell_. Fuck all, Hell was probably cooler by a few degrees Celsius.

And so by the time she arrived at the building and lugged her bicycle up the steps and locked it to the railing, she just wanted to crawl into a freezer or move to America, where there were air conditioners. Or Antarctica, which was all snow and ice. Yes, Antarctica was a better plan. She was contemplating how much it would cost to simply chuck away her career, go back to uni and study something in the STEM field that could get her a one-way trip to Antarctica when her bangs fell in her face. She pushed them back in time to see The Most Beautiful Man In The World turn and stare.

The maxi dress she had cleverly biked in suddenly felt as tight as cling wrap, and she fumbled for her mobile and glared at it so she didn’t have to see The Most Beautiful Man In The World look at her like the gross sweat monster she was, who obviously had _no obvious indicator_ that there was a normal reason for it because her bike was locked away at that point. He probably wondered, alarmed, whether she was fleeing the scene of a crime.

Well, she was. The death of her dignity.

 _Well done, universe,_ she thought bitterly to herself. _Well done._


	7. Chapter 7

**Day 30**  
_Sixth Meeting With ~~The Most Beautiful Man In The World~~ Sherlock Holmes_

She’d decided the single life was for her. And the Most Beautiful Man In The World would _never_ be hers.

She really was that pathetic.

But with that decision, she decided the hell with it, best make the most of it. Live a life she enjoyed, even if there was never anyone to share it with. Take herself out on dates. Laugh off life’s misfortunes. Invest in a wine cooler and buy a few bottles of the decent stuff and host a dinner party.

Actually live for herself for a change.

First step: get rid of the horrendous job. She had a fair bit in savings and investments, but most importantly, she had the brass ones with that move to see about launching a business for herself. She was skilled, knowledgeable, and she could see every mistake her old company was going to make and wouldn’t make it herself. A few co-workers had said when she had it up and running, they’d leave and join her.

So good. She had a future employment idea, she had possible employees. 

To celebrate she decided to take herself out to a good dinner and a classic film. She dressed up nicely, daring to wear heels again (the wedge kind, on a tip from a friend) and a lovely Little Black Dress she’d always been saving for the perfect occasion. Well, this wasn’t it, but what a shame to keep waiting and waiting.

And then, she went on the lift and checked her make-up in the shiny doors and for the first time in ages, she felt...normal. Powerful. Lucky.

 _Lovely_.

And apparently, she wasn’t the only one.

The Most Beautiful Man In The World was walking in and he looked at her, mouth hanging open. Feeling daring she gave him a little wave, and he waved back…

Right before slipping on the wet tile and falling on his arse.

Knowing what utter humiliation felt like on a near constant basis, she carefully rushed to his side. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Just my pride is bruised,” he said. He winced as he sat up. “And perhaps my tailbone.”

“I know that feeling well,” she said with a rueful smile.

“You do, don’t you? Luck seems to never go your way.”

She shrugged before she helped him up. “It always seems to go yours,” she said.

“Are you kidding? I’m an absolute klutz.” He unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and rolled it up, showing her a bruise that was the size of a small orange on his wrist. “Dropped my handheld blender on it while trying to get my dog out from underfoot. And I’ve had a limp for two days when I slipped and hit my tub.”

She laughed a bit and then shook her head. “I’m sorry. You just seem so...cool and confident.”

“It’s all a facade,” he said, giving her a small smile. “I’d have offered to help you but you always seemed like you were trying to rush away from me. I thought I was coming off as a snob. I’ve been told I have that tendency.”

“Oh, no!” she said. “I was just utterly mortified I kept making an arse out of myself.” She held out her hand. “I’m Molly Hooper. A pleasure to meet you…?”

“Sherlock,” he said. “Sherlock Holmes.”

“Lovely name,” she said with a smile. Then deciding to be bold once again, she nodded her head towards the door. “If you don’t have plans, I was planning on going out for Thai and then seeing a black and white film at one of the museums. Its film noir, which I don’t know if it is something you enjoy, but--”

“I’ve never seen film noir before, but I’m up for new things,” he said, grinning at her. “And I actually know a very good Thai place, if you’ll trust my judgment?”

“I think I can do that,” she said, her smile growing wider. He turned and offered her his arm, and she took it.

So...maybe there was a God, and maybe, just maybe, that God was smiling down at her for a change.


End file.
